A Man Like Me
by gsugirl
Summary: Horatio's past re-surfaces in a unique way. This one-shot is dedicated to all abused children and those who strive to help them. Hope you enjoy!


A Man Like Me  


Horatio leaned back into the cushions of the sofa turning his attention from the deck towards the kitchen. A late evening thunderstorm was raging outside drastically changing the muggy Miami afternoon into an evening of torrential rain punctuated by streaks of lightening and intense thunder. Sighing deeply, he wondered if that storm was anything akin to what was quietly brewing within the woman loading the dishwasher in the adjacent room.

She hadn't been that way earlier in the day. She had, in fact, been chipper that morning. He'd been out of the Lab for almost a week on sick leave and he'd teased her as she slipped from their bed ignoring his suggestion that she remain.

'_You could call in,' he'd murmured into her ear as he slipped his arm around her waist. 'You've spent so much time caring for me and I'd like to return the favor. Take another day off. We don't have to leave this bed…at least for a while.'_

'_Now that sounds tempting,' she'd grinned removing his arm as she sat up and reached for her robe. 'But something that I can't explain tells me that I need to go in. I'd best head to the shower before your devilish charm and good hands convince me to change my mind.'_

'_Kill joy…will you at least think about it? I'm feeling much better. Come back to bed and I'll do my best to make it worth your while.'_

'_I'm sure you would,' she'd teased looking back at him affectionately as she entered the master bathroom. 'But I can't shake this feeling. And you are still in need rest, Horatio Caine. Recovering from pneumonia is tricky. We don't want a relapse. I'll fix you an omelet and a fruit plate before I leave. And **please** remember to take your medication after breakfast. Behave yourself while I'm gone and we'll continue this discussion later this evening.'_

'_Well, can I at least take you to lunch? I'm growing weary of this house arrest…been cooped up way too long. I'm ready to get back into the swing of things and I mean that in more ways than one,' he'd grumbled catching a glimpse of her silk gown falling to the floor as he looked around for his sleep pants._

'_Now that I'll agree to…as long as you don't sneak by the Lab afterward. You're under doctor's orders to rest until Monday…no paperwork, no new case files or case reviews! Just because you're feeling better, doesn't mean you can go down to the Lab and bring home a box of paperwork. I like a man who follows instructions, and Lover, you're not exactly known for that!'_

'_Yes, ma'am,' he'd yawned as he made his way toward the kitchen to prepare coffee. 'But I do believe you forgot to mention anything about checking messages Liebling,' he'd chuckled as the sound of the shower drowned out his voice._

By noon their plans had changed. She'd called and something in her voice told him that her mood was markedly different.

'_I'm sorry, Horatio. I can't make lunch today. Something's come up here…something important...it…um…it must be dealt with.'_

'_Hmm…something more important than your recuperating husband? I'm a bit disappointed.'_

'_Uh…yeah…it's something very important…I mean nothing more important than you! Horatio, I just can't get away right now. Why don't you phone Frank and see if he can join you for lunch._ _There's soup in the refrigerator if you'd rather not to go out. I'm sorry.'_

'_Is everything okay, Liebling? I don't like your tone. Is something going on that I should know about…maybe help with?'_

'_Nothing for you to worry about…I gotta go. Remember…take your meds. I'll try to get home early.'_

So he'd ignored her instructions and driven to the Lab under the guise of looking for Frank and checked his messages, swearing everyone he saw to secrecy. Three hours later, he'd returned home with a half-eaten club sandwich and started preparations for their dinner, before settling into his recliner with beer in hand to steal a few moments with the one thing about New York he still kept abreast of…his beloved Yankees.

Perhaps it was the poor pitching or maybe he hadn't completely regained his strength, but she'd returned home to the sounds of the post-game wrap-up and the snoring coming from his open mouth.

Upon awakening, he'd found her setting the table for dinner so he padded into the kitchen rubbing his eyes and apologizing, '_I'm, uh, embarrassed, Liebling. I'd planned to have everything ready when you came in. If a man can't work, at least he should help out those who do.'_

'_You're doing exactly what you should be doing, Horatio. Thanks for being sensible today. I'm not trying to be a nag; I just want you to get well.'_

Feeling a twinge of guilt, he'd replied, '_You're welcome…perhaps a more personal thank-you might be in store later in the evening? I'm well rested.'_

Instead of the shy smile he'd expected, she'd avoided the subject as the oven timer interrupted their conversation.

She'd been distantly engaging during dinner, talking little but smiling at the appropriate times and shaking her head in amused frustration when he'd confessed his activities of the day. But suddenly without warning, there were moments when she became pensive, her demeanor distant especially when she glanced toward her phone on the kitchen counter.

Shooing him back into the great room after dinner, she'd adamantly refused his offer of assistance as she cleared the table. Taking his place on the sofa, he'd obediently turned on the local news for up-dates of the deteriorating weather conditions all the while intently watching as she quietly completed her tasks.

Could she be ill? She had a pre-existing condition that caused him great concern, but lately his needs had been greater. On the night he awakened unable to breathe, she'd taken him to the ER where Alexx had suggested a night in the hospital for observation, but he'd refused.

'_Now that we know I'm not having a heart attack, I think can manage this at home,' he'd insisted_ _as the two women exchanged looks of consternation._

Sometimes he was too damn independent. She'd devoted herself to his care for the past week. Had it become too much for her?

Finally, as the storm began to subside, he'd decided to broach the issue head-on.

Walking back into the kitchen, he leaned against the counter and queried, "Liebling, are you feeling okay?'

Looking up in surprise, she answered, "Of course…I feel fine. Why would you ask that?"

"You only took dainty bites of your dinner and pushed what you didn't eat around on the plate. I figured you are feeling unwell or maybe my cooking wasn't up to par tonight?"

"Your lasagna is my favorite meal, Horatio. I didn't mean to worry you. I guess I should've known I was being watched so closely, it comes with the territory when you live with a cop."

Clearing his throat, he looked away before answering, "Yes I'm sure living with a cop has its challenges…especially when the cop loves you. You've said that I can be 'closed off'. Sometimes that runs both ways. I'll leave you to your chores."

Watching him walk through the great room and onto the deck, she leaned her head back and closed her eyes. After taking a few moments to collect herself, she joined him placing a gentle hand on his shoulder as she said, "I'm sorry. You didn't deserve my bitchiness. Today was just overwhelming for me. I was wrong to take it out on you."

"Care to share?" he asked with a tilt of his head as he turned to face her.

"I made a promise a week ago when we returned from the ER that I would not bring anymore work issues home with me. This home will no longer be my secondary work place. It isn't fair to you."

"My health issues are not as bad as we thought. I didn't exactly keep my promise today…so please tell me what's troubling you. It's okay."

Taking a deep breath, she looked toward the ocean and began hesitantly, "Mikey wore the new sneakers you gave him today. They fit well and he's crazy about them."

"That doesn't sound like a problem…" Horatio began with a curious look.

"He also wore something else…a distinct handprint on the side of his face," she replied glancing at Horatio to gauge his response.

As his blue eyes narrowed, the red-head swallowed hard and said tersely, "Go on."

"He was dropped off for Day Care as usual, but deliberately avoided contact with almost everybody until around mid-morning. I was in my office trying to catch up on some paperwork. His teacher brought it to my attention shortly before 10."

"Why didn't you call me?" Horatio asked softly.

"I wanted to…but I couldn't, Horatio. I had to follow protocol."

"I've been mentoring the boy for weeks. We have a relationship. I give less than a damn about anyone's protocol!"

"I agree with you! But as a mandated reporter for the State of Florida, I have to follow protocol. The Center could lose its license and have to close if I don't! And considering your relationship with Mikey, if we had conducted our own investigation, we would have been accused of coercing him. Following protocol was my only option."

Nodding quickly, Horatio grimaced as he answered, "Describe the injuries."

"Pronounced red welts on the right side of his face…beside his eye. There was distinct bruising under the eye socket and on the lid. I placed my hand over the welts and all four fingers fit perfectly. There's no doubt in my mind. It was an adult handprint."

"What did the child say to you? What's his story?" Horatio asked running a hand through his hair.

"At first, he claimed he didn't know how the marks got there. But I pointed out that when your face gets hurt, it's hard not to have any idea how it happened. Then, he said he thought his dog might have done it. He stuck with the dog story for several hours until I finally got him to tell me the truth."

"Which was?"

"His mother hit him. But he says she was only 'playing around'. I know that's bullshit. How can you hit a child so hard across the face that you leave red welts and call it 'playing around'? The woman has been verbally abusive to me and my staff on several occasions. She's got a nasty temper and flies off the handle over the least little things. He may have needed discipline, but he didn't need that!"

"Did he tell you when it happened?"

"Again, he claimed not to know. But Val says the marks were not there yesterday, so I'm assuming sometime last night or early this morning."

"So what is 'protocol' doing about all of this?"

"An immediate report was made to Child Services as required by law. A case worker was sent to the Center to interview him. They are to do a home visit tonight. Police officers often accompany them for security. I requested Frank Tripp. If it couldn't be you, I wanted it to be him."

"Frank's a good choice. I trust his judgment. Any history? Unexplained bruising or marks in the past?" Horatio replied wearily rubbing his forehead.

"Before today, I would've said no. The usual stuff…skinned knees, normal scrapes, things that go with being a kid. But he once had a black eye and said he ran into a pole. That was during the week we were in St. Thomas. He never wavered from the 'pole story', so Val didn't report it. That might have been a huge mistake."

"Mistakes can be tragic when you're dealing with this sort of thing…," he'd begun before the chirp of her phone caused her to bolt for the kitchen.

After ending the brief call, she tossed the phone angrily across the counter and pushed her hair out of her face. Watching curiously from the French doors, he detected that the news she'd received wasn't to her liking.

Joining her in the kitchen, he queried, "Any news?"

"Child Services called to inform me that Mikey's injuries have been ruled 'accidental'. His mother is deeply sorry and no action will be taken in his case. He is not in imminent danger so no follow-up is necessary The State of Florida wishes to thank me for my concern for the safety of our youngsters. Case closed. Mikey's hurt and scared and Mom gets off the hook without so much as an open file. They won't even monitor her for 30 days. Some system," she replied angrily reaching for the bottle of Irish whiskey in the refrigerator.

"How is that going to help?"

"I need this right now. I need something to take the image of Mikey's frightened eyes and your disappointed ones out of my mind. This should do the trick!"

As she reached for a glass and their eyes met, Horatio took the bottle out of her hand. She didn't completely understand what she was dealing with, but he did. He was a seasoned veteran, his medals of valor being ensconced in his subconscious. Like Mikey, he had lived the struggle and survived. He'd never shared that part of himself with her. It was too personal...too raw...too shameful. She knew of his parents' battles. Yelina had forced his hand on that issue, but he'd never told her about his private hell. He'd left those years behind along with his GI Joe, Stingray banana-seat bicycles, and baseball cards...or so he thought.

"This won't fix things. This is my guilty pleasure, Liebling, not yours. You are many things…a drinker isn't one of them."

"So what will fix things? How do I just come home and forget about a little boy who was afraid to go home today? How do I cope with his arrogant mother who convinces Child Services that the welts on her child's face are an 'accident'? What about the next little 'accident', Horatio? Will he confide in me? Probably not! He'll learn to keep her secrets. He'll learn to shut down emotionally. He'll have a miserable childhood and he doesn't deserve that. No child does. So again, you tell me…what do I do to fix things?"

"Stay the course and fight for him. It's what you are called to do."

"And if I fail? What happens if I fail Mikey? I'm not a counselor. I have no experience in dealing with anything like this."

"You won't fail. And you have more experience than you realize. Sometimes a boy like Mikey grows up to be a man like me."

* * *

Three weeks later, their slumber was interrupted with a phone call from Frank Tripp. Michael Hutchens was in the ER at Dade General. And so it goes...

Complete


End file.
